Resolution
by Mara Trinity Scully
Summary: I. Will. Not. Die." Why Lambert fails. RipleyLambert, (implied RipleyCall - oh the femmeslash!)


Title: **Resolution**  
Author: MTS

Challengefic for Beat

Fandom: Alien  
Pairing: Lambert/Ripley  
Line: What is this thing?  
RATING: R for language (it's ALIEN for fuck's sake). And femmeslash. La.  
A/N: Scene is set as a reworking of a deleted scene in the Alien film that has this officially sanctioned summary: "Ripley takes an opportunity to smooth over tensions with Lambert. Ridley Scott intended to explore the future's mindset toward casual sex both overtly – Ripley asks Lambert if she's slept with Ash – and subtly – with a slight undercurrent of sexual tension between Ripley and Lambert." Yes, ladies and gents, you heard correctly. Lambert/Ripley is the officially sanctioned ACTUAL femmeslash couple.  
  
Alien stuff is owned by 20th Century Fox (jeez, ya'll were smart in the 70's).

-A-

_A bazillion years in the future. **Earth** (what a shit hole)_  
  
Her arm carelessly wrapped around the mechanical lifeform, Ripley Clone #8 opened her eyes wide as a memory returned. What is this thing? This face... this woman's face. Eyes of one about to die, a voice without spirit. A name without meaning.  
  
Ripley felt restless at once, her alien-ness longing for the kill at the mere thought of a throat begging to be cut. Her eyes closing, she forced the predatory thoughts away. She wanted to know more about this face, these fearful eyes, this hoarse voice and name.  
  
Call shifted in her sleep. Her unconscious murmuring was untranslated and therefore a deep  
baritone sound mixed with a whispering soprano. Feeling slightly chilled, Ripley pulled her lover closer to her while simultaneously trying to cling to the memory of her now ancient origin...Was it real? Did she actually do this? Moments before death, moments before...

_Much much much less than a bazillion years in the future. **The Nostromo in orbit around LV-426**_  
  
Lambert remained sitting. Her eyes were watery and her nose was running. Ripley fought the urge to smack her, smack anything.  
  
Actually, if she had had her druthers, she would have smacked the fuck out of Ash.  
  
She knew she had to go check Mother, but Lambert..._shit._  
  
Ripley moved closer and sat on the table, inches from her fellow officer.  
  
"It's the only way we're going to get out of here." Her voice was soft, soothing.  
  
Lambert looked tearfully at her. "I'm sorry but it just seems like you're trying to kill us."  
  
Ripley saw the memory of Dallas' horrible demise reflected in Lambert's eyes. They had sent him to, no, he had chosen to walk to his death. And now they were going to do the same thing.  
  
But Ripley knew better. She knew she was not going to let that fucker kill her.  
  
Ripley touched Lambert's forehead, a gentle caress. "Lambert, I promise you. I promise you that I'm gonna get us all out of here okay. Trust me."  
  
Lambert looked at her closer, her eyes suddenly unreadable.  
  
It was an impulse, really. Driven by that look in her eyes, the tremble in her body and the way she flinched as Ripley caressed her hair and cupped her cheek.  
  
If they were indeed about to die, why _the fuck_ not.  
  
Ripley kissed her, tasting the salt of tears. Lambert's lips parted, allowing her commanding officer's tongue to swirl into her mouth. Oh, this was against the Company's regulations, but it would help, wouldn't it? It would help.  
  
Lambert suddenly pushed away. "Ellen."  
  
Ripley flinched. No one called her by her first name anymore.  
  
Her voice was hoarse, her eyes wild. "Ellen. We're going to die."  
  
"No." Ripley said. "No. I'm not going to die, that fucker isn't going to kill me."  
  
Her hands grabbed Lambert's face, not so gentle anymore, and she kissed her again. It had been a long time since she had kissed anyone.  
  
Ripley slid one hand into Lambert's greasy unwashed hair as she maneuvered herself off the table to a kneeling position next to Lambert's chair.  
  
Lambert pulled away again. "No. We're going to die. This is no place, no time..." Her words were cut off again by Ripley's third kiss, harder this time. Tasting her anxieties and feeding on them.  
  
"I," she said, "am not," she kissed her again, "going," again, "to die." Her hand was now moving up Lambert's leg, sliding across her thigh, slow pressure against where she knew Lambert could feel it ..."Oh god!" Lambert cried....sliding under Lambert's shirt to rest on the woman's right breast. Lambert was shaking all over. It was too much, too much.  
  
Ripley almost didn't care.  
  
She kissed her again, memorizing the taste of fear and promising herself never to be like this. Never.  
  
Ripley pulled completely away, and was suddenly standing a foot away from the blonde woman.  
  
"I. Will. Not. Die." Warrant Officer Ellen Ripley believed those words. She trusted herself. Perhaps she could only trust herself.  
  
"I want you to go to the bridge and make sure we're still on course. Now can you do that?"  
  
Still trembling, Lambert nodded her head.  
  
_I will never be like her. _  
  
Time to pay Mother a little visit.


End file.
